Imagine Dragons
by Dr. Trunks Briefs
Summary: The age of man is over, or so Gohan thinks. Between his hallucinations, delusions, and torn relationships, the intelligent hybrid Saiyan looks for hope even at the end of the world. Mirai timeline, AU. GV, GhB.


IMAGINE DRAGONS

By Dr. Trunks Briefs

Yes, this IS a rewrite of my old fic Pavisse. It is highly edited- facts, events, and relationships are greatly changed. Enjoy.

Summary: The age of man is over, or so Gohan thinks. Between his hallucinations, delusions, and torn relationships, the intelligent hybrid Saiyan looks for hope even at the end of the world. Mirai timeline, AU. GV, GhB.

Gohan chewed his lip, trying to concentrate on his math homework. Peaceful times gave him plenty of study time, much to his mother's content. Being natural allies with knowledge, Gohan learned quickly. He was only ten years old, yet he was already studying advanced calculus and quantum mechanics. Bulma even let him play around with the technology in her lab from time to time. However, while the times were peaceful, they were dark. There was always a cloak of sadness over his home, especially when he looked into his mother's eyes. The hardworking woman wouldn't tell him directly, but she channeled all of her emotion into her son. She shut down her heart and gave it all to Gohan. She fetched water, she cooked meals, she cleaned the house, but it was all mechanic. Gohan hadn't seen his mother laugh out loud or even give one of her warm smiles since that day.

The day his father died.

It was an ironically cheery day. Being the former champion, Gohan's father, Goku, received free entry to the World Martial Arts Tournament. Deciding to follow in his father's footsteps, Gohan also entered, but he was forced to merely fight in a Junior Tournament. The opponents weren't too much of a challenge, which was disappointing for him. The good point was that as the winner of the Junior Tournament, Gohan was able to challenge the former champion.

That was when it happened. Three minutes into the fight, Goku collapsed. He coughed up blood, grabbing and clawing at his chest. The immense pain and screaming drove the warrior into unconsciousness. A few hours later he died. The strongest man on the planet succumbed to a mere heart virus.

It made the headlines and, as information usually is, the events were warped. Being in a fight with his father at the time didn't help Gohan. He was subjected to ridicule and accusations of murder. Though the facts were present, the mass preferred to believe Gohan killed his own father in the ring.

Now he sat in his house, burying himself in his studies. Advancing in subjects of mathematics and physics at a breaking speed. He'd always been talented in the subjects, but he wasn't able to shine due to always being called to fight. As a young child he was trained and pitted against enemies five times his size and, sometimes, five times his strength. But Gohan's father always seemed to rescue him.

But Gohan's father wasn't there to rescue him anymore. The void in his life and soul was fed with books, but nothing seemed to satisfy it. Nothing made him feel better. Once again, Gohan needed his father to save him, but Goku couldn't. He never could again.

Lost in thought, Gohan hadn't noticed his grandfather staring at him. Suddenly aware of how he must look: depressed, staring at his books but not seeing the words. Gohan shook his head and stared hard at the text, but it looked foreign to him. He pretended to understand. He pretended to be strong. Just like his mother. Gohan was always just like his mother.

Drifting away from his studies again, Gohan noticed the newscast on the television. A woman was shivering, but not from the cold. Her eyes were wide and panicked, microphone clasped tightly in her hands. Her voice shook as she spoke, the city behind her going up in flames. People ran, screaming. But there she was, standing in the middle of the disaster, reporting.

"Hey Chi, come in here!" Ox, Gohan's grandfather, called. Chichi walked into the room, eyes blank and mechanic, hands absentmindedly scrubbing a dish. She focused on the television, letting the woman's frightened words register in her mind. The dish fell from her hands.

"They're inhuman!" The reporter cried, tears rolling down her face. "Please, I don't want to be here anymore! They'll kill me! They'll kill all of us! Please!" She collapsed, pressing the microphone to her forehead. "Please let me go!" Behind her, a young woman with blonde hair materialized. An expression of horror crossed the reporter's face, who undoubtedly could see the blonde in the reflection of the camera lens. The blonde woman smiled and gripped the reporter's skull. In an attempt to survive, the reporter squirmed and fought, but it was useless. The blonde continued squeezing her skull until it collapsed between her palms. She dropped the remains of the now still reporter, who just moments before was sobbing and begging.

A young man walked into the perspective of the camera, having been behind it. "Where are you, Son Goku?" He asked in a velvety voice. "The island southwest of South City. Come get us." He raised his palm to the camera. After a flash of light, the picture went back to the news room miles away from the incident.

Chichi covered her mouth, shivering. Tears pooled in her eyes. "Oh-oh my God!" she exclaimed, pent up emotion seeping out of her. She glanced down to her son, who was still kneeling in front of the coffee table. His eyes were downcast, but it wasn't sadness he was feeling. His shoulders shook. His hands fisted in the pages of his textbook. "Gohan… No. Stay. You need to stay." Gohan ripped the textbook away. As it fell to the floor, the ten year old darted out of the house. "Gohan!" Chichi screamed. Her son paused under the arch of the opened door. He turned to her, eyes filled with mixed emotion. He realized he was doing precisely what his father did over and over. Leaving. Setting off to save the world in the face of the possibility that he may lose his life doing it.

"I'm sorry," Gohan's voice cracked, "I love you. I love you, Mom. I'm so sorry." He turned on his heel and ran out into the grassy yard, his mother chasing after him. Without turning back, he blasted into the air, flying southwest of South City.

Chichi collapsed on the grass, screaming, hot wet tears falling over her cheeks. Ox held her tightly to his enormous build, letting her scream and cry into his chest. She leaned forward as if in pain, Gohan's name echoing off the forest trees. A broken mother calling back the child who would never return.

"GOHAN!"

His dark eyes snapped open. The searing pain hit him all at once, from the crack in his skull to the blisters on his feet. The nightmare echoed off the walls of his brain, still able to hear his mother's cries. Gohan rolled over onto his side and sat up on his elbow. That was years ago. Gohan hadn't seen his mother in years. Looking around, he noticed he was in one of the many destroyed cities. Black clouds suffocated the sky, turning it a smoky gray. A perpetual gray. He tried to remember where he was- what he was doing. The crack on his head wasn't helping.

He was in Orange Star City, fighting the androids. They were winning, again. They always won. But they never killed him. The androids were sadistic machines, allowing the young man to live every time he challenged them. He had challenged them here in Orange Star City. He was losing. They had him on the ground. They'd hit him over the head. Then… What happened?

"GOHAN!" A scream came from behind. He jerked around, the familiar voice registering. There he was, the little purple-haired boy. Trapped in an arm lock by #17, the male android. "GOHAN!" He cried again. His blue eyes flipped up to look at the black-haired man on the ground. Gohan jumped up to his feet, stumbling across the cement. His world doubled from the blood loss. Clumsily, he attempted to swing at the mechanical monster. The female android, #18, simply smiled and swatted the boy's arm away. She nailed him with a powerful left hook, making his head spin more. Gohan found himself on the ground again, this time in even more pain.

He focused his eyes ahead of him, trying to shake off the vertigo. He grabbed a sturdy metal pipe, hopped onto one foot, and swung it like a bat, letting his momentum spin him around to face the androids. It made contact with something, knocking it to the ground. Gohan looked for a flash of blonde through his dizzy eyes and gave it a sharp kick, managing to knock it down. He grabbed the purple-haired boy and escaped from the androids' line of vision. They didn't want to play anymore, he could tell. If they had, they would have followed.

Gohan ran, stumbling, the preteen boy with purple hair stumbling alongside him. After what seemed like an hour, they stopped. The boy was out of breath, unable to pull out of the older teen's strong grip. Gohan yanked the boy around to see him. "What are you doing here?" he gasped between breaths. "I told you to never follow me again. Are you trying to get yourself killed?" The purple haired boy looked up into Gohan's dark eyes. Stuttering, he tried to explain, but it just wouldn't come out right. He didn't want Gohan to be angry at him again.

"I came to rescue you!" he fumbled, shamefully glancing between the man's pitch black eyes and his beaten up brown coat.

"I don't need rescuing!" Gohan growled , training his ugly glare on the young boy's face. Trunks had always been this way. Impulsive. Stubborn. Impatient. Persistent. "I told you to wait in the lab. I told you to wait in the lab and don't touch anything. Wait and be quiet." His grip on Trunks's shoulders tightened. His world was doubling again, making him lose his balance. Blue eyes flickered up to him, a tanned hand hesitantly touching the warrior's blood-stained hair.

"Gohan, your head…" Trunks trailed off, as if afraid he'd be barked at again. The red liquid stained his fingertips. Gohan stammered in response, dropping to one knee, attempting to keep consciousness. Trunks hooked his arms under the other teen's, holding him up as Gohan drifted into darkness again.

When he woke, he was lying in a strange room. The walls were made of some sort of metal and the floors were covered in dirty tile. There was hardly any furniture, save for the small sized bed, an uncomfortable looking chair, and a small table covered with medical supplies. The only light came in from the door, which was halfway open. Gohan could hear voices in the adjacent room; muffled and whispering. The walls must not be very thick. Sitting up, Gohan noticed he was covered in bandages. His leg was set with a makeshift splint and his head was wrapped tight with itchy gauze.

Sighing, Gohan leaned back and tried to remember what happened before he blacked out. He knew he was in a fight with the androids in Orange Star. Those androids always did love the big cities the best. So many buildings to tear down and so many people to kill. But there was something important there that Gohan felt he was forgetting. He closed his eyes tight and tried to retrieve the memory. It suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. _Trunks_. Alarmed, Gohan jumped out of the bed, instantly regretting it. He stumbled across the room and leaned into the wall, his leg shooting with pain. He gritted his teeth and fought through it, limping over to the door. He swung it all the way open and made his way down the corridor. Door after open door, Gohan could see entire families huddled together in the dim light, nursing their wounds or listening to news. Some of the many rooms had people lying in the beds. Some bandaged like himself, some with sheets pulled over their faces.

He flinched and looked directly ahead, coming to the end of the corridor. Gohan pulled open the only shut door, coming face to face with a small woman. The woman couldn't have been any older than twenty. She had tiny shoulders and a thin waist. Her heart-shaped face held deep-set blue eyes and big, long, black hair tied back into a braid.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a stern tone, her eyes set on his. Gohan narrowed his dark gray eyes at her, unappreciative of her tone.

"You're in my way. Move," he replied.

The girl made an annoyed sound and grabbed his arm. "Come on, you need to get back to bed. Your leg is broken and you have a crack in your head." Gohan ripped his arm away from her, glaring hotly.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm going to find Trunks." The girl crossed her arms over her chest and stared sternly at him. Gohan sneered, "Now move or I'll make you."

"You've been out for three days. Your head was split open and your leg was broken. If you don't get back to bed, then you won't recover as quickly-" the girl's sentence was cut off with a rough shove. She hit the wall of the corridor harder than she was prepared for, knocking the wind out of her. She slid to the floor in a state of shock as the broken teenager hobbled by her on his splint. Finding herself again, she pulled herself up and followed him out. "Hey! Who taught you how to treat someone, you jerk? We've been taking care of you for days! If it weren't for us, you wouldn't have lived! Show some gratitude!" Gohan stopped and looked down at her. Standing six-foot-five, he towered over her tiny frame. Despite her unintimidating build, she was fierce and persistent. She kind of reminded him of…

"Trunks is my little brother. He has short purple hair and he's kind of scrawny, but he's about as annoying and tireless as you are. Please tell me where he is." Taken aback by his suddenly soft tone, the girl forgot her rage. She looked down at his splint, giving it a quick check and making sure it was still at least kind of doing its job. Turning her blue eyes back up to Gohan, she replied, "He's with Sharpner and he's fine. A few cuts and bruises, but he'll live. Much better chance than you had when he dragged you in here. You were half dead."

Motioning for him to follow her, she handed him a crutch and started toward the other side of whatever building they were holed up in. "My name is Videl, by the way," she said without turning around. "Videl Satan."

"Gohan Son," he replied, inspecting his surroundings. They were definitely underground, probably the basement of a large building. "Where are we?"

"Orange Star City in a bomb shelter under the high school. It was big enough to hold a lot of people and it had separate rooms, so some of the families we've rescued can rest peacefully and privately."

"We?" Gohan inquired. The bomb shelter certainly was big; big enough to hold thousands of the high school students that must have attended the school back when it was still open. The walls in larger rooms were lined with insulation and sand bags. There were groups of people standing or sitting, some receiving medical treatment, some speaking or listening, and some just sitting in shock.

"My friends and I, we go out and we help people who need it. Some are brought to us- like you- and we help the best we can. We provide food, shelter, and protection. We try to make a difference." Gohan chuckled at her words. Videl turned to him as they walked, cocking an eyebrow. "Something funny?"

"It's just, there are so many people out there who are still dying. Who are still suffering. How could you possibly make a difference by helping a few hundred out of the millions?" They stopped walking. Videl stared up at him, a hint of pity in her eyes.

"Say a man is walking along the beach, among thousands of starfish that have washed ashore. They're dying, baking on the sand. One by one, he picks them up and throws them into the sea. Another man walks up and says, 'What are you doing? There are so many starfish dying, you can't possibly make a difference.' The first man picks up another starfish and throws it into the sea. 'I just made a difference in that one,' he says. We're all walking along the same beach." Silent, Gohan's gray eyes drifted away, toward the families of people sitting together. They were all starfish on the beach now.

"Gohan!" a familiar voice exclaimed. Relief swept over the dark-haired teen as Trunks hurried up to them. Behind him, a tall blonde man with long hair followed at a slower pace. Trunks hugged Gohan tentatively, unsure of his elder's reaction. Gohan put a comforting arm around his shoulders, hugging tighter. "I'm happy you're safe," mumbled the 10-year-old.

Holding his little friend close, "I'm glad you're safe, too," he replied. Cautiously, he looked up at the blonde man. "Are you Sharpner?"

With a nod, Sharpner replied, "I am. It's good to see you up and walking around, even though you probably shouldn't," he glanced over to Videl, who was giving Gohan an increasingly sharp glare as she remembered how he was setting back his healing progress by days. "It's nice to meet you, too. Trunks has told us a lot about you, and we're very happy to have you here." Gohan stared at Sharpner suspiciously, wondering what he meant. Sharpner took the silent question. "He says you've had private schooling in the way of technology by Bulma Briefs herself. He says you know a thing or two about engineering."

Still suspicious, Gohan nodded. "You could say that."

"Listen, we need you. We need someone with tech smarts around here. You could help us greatly by working on some things for us. In return, we'll provide you with food and a roof over your head. You could bring your loved ones here- the androids aren't aware that we're all down here, so they'd be safe." He put a hand on Gohan's shoulder, "Please help us."

Trunks held onto Gohan's arm, looking up at the tall man. "This place is great, Gohan. We could bring my mom here, and… your… mom… too…" Trunks trailed off, unable to decipher his friend's expression. It was pained, nostalgic, and yet so angry. Carefully, Trunks continued, "We could find your mom. We could bring her here. She could be safe here, living here with us." Gohan looked down at him, gray eyes filled with mixed emotion.

"We need to go home. We need to think about this," he said.

Sharpner smiled and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "We'll give you a radio so you can call in whenever you need to. Take all the time you need, but please think about it. We really need you, Gohan." With a small nod, Gohan glanced between Sharpner and Videl. They needed him. Someone needed him. All of these people needed him.

After all, they were all just starfish on the beach.

To be continued…

/~drtrunksbriefs


End file.
